


i bet these memories follow you around

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [109]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Exes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: Clarke had really hoped the Regency era costumes would make this whole situation less awkward. At the very least, a distraction from the fact that she was playing Elizabeth Darcy to Bellamy’s Fitzwilliam Bennet. When the script for this flipped version of Pride & Prejudice had come across her agent’s desk, she knew she had to do it. Even when she found out her former fiancé would be playing opposite her, her interest in the project eventually overpowered her trepidation. She was a professional, damn it. She would handle it.{ Prompt: bellarke as hollywood ex fiances cast in a angsty romantic film where the characters get married and bellarke are uncomfortably hyperaware of how they came so close to having their actual wedding whilst acting it. }





	

Clarke had really hoped the Regency era costumes would make this whole situation less awkward. At the very least, a distraction from the fact that she was playing Elizabeth Darcy to Bellamy’s Fitzwilliam Bennet. When the script for this flipped version of Pride & Prejudice had come across her agent’s desk, she knew she had to do it. Even when she found out her former fiancé would be playing opposite her, her interest in the project eventually overpowered her trepidation. She was a professional, damn it. She would handle it. 

Except, she hadn’t counted on Bellamy looking quite so good in his own era clothing or being quite so polite. Anger and the cold shoulder was what she had been prepared for. It wasn’t like him, to be simply indifferent. Bellamy ran hot or cold, no in between. Neutrality was her thing. It had been three years though; she had changed, gotten better–whole, healed–so maybe he wasn’t the same man she had known back then either. 

“Clarke, you ready?”

She turned to Harper, today’s production assistant and gave her a tepid smile. “Be there in a sec.”

Harper wandered off to round up the rest of the cast for the Netherfield parlor scene. Dawdling at the edge of the set, Clarke caught Bellamy walking around the couch with slow, even steps. Even with his head down, she could see him muttering his lines under this breath as a way to warm up for the scene. She couldn’t help but smile; at least his prep routines were the same. 

When Harper beckoned to her a second time, she took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight. Finn and Wells were already at their marks, and she took her place by Finn. Bellamy nodded at her as she passed by, and she did the same in return. So very, very neutral.

Then Kane called _action_ , and his switch flipped. Bellamy was charming, sharp, mischievous, the perfect depiction of someone who pushed all of Darcy’s buttons–and her own, to be honest. She had never seen him in a role that was so very him, and it made every day on set harder. At this point, she didn’t have to muster up very much feigned tension in her scenes with him. He had her on edge with his smile, tone of voice, his very presence.

But, she could handle this. She could.

* * *

And she did, even through their Netherfield ballroom scene, and the first meeting at the dance hall, and even their Pemberley scenes. 

Most shockingly, they had started rehearsing the proposal scene, and it was uncomfortable of course, but not painful like she had expected. They were both so focused on getting it _right_ , she supposed, that neither of them had the chance to think about it in terms of their own history. 

Wells even commented on their amicability. “Honestly, not what I expected.”

“See, you didn’t have to sign on for this,” she said as she stole a sip of his coffee. “I can take care of myself.”

Wells rolled his eyes. “Please. You keep saying that, but I don’t think you believe that yourself. And I signed onto this project because era pieces are my speciality.” 

“And because a certain Raven Reyes is head of the production team.” She laughed as he scowled at her. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you happen to end up on projects that she’s also on.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clarke snorted.

Pulling her into a half-hug, Wells teased, “I’ll let you live in your denial, if you let me live in mine.”

She poked him in the side but hummed in agreement, then braced herself as they walked back onto set. She didn’t have to last too much longer.

(And if her stomach dropped disappointedly at that thought, she ignored it.)

* * *

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Clarke yelled to Harper as she barreled out of the makeup trailer. 

“Just get in!” She replied. As soon as Clarke sat down in the golf cart, Harper floored it. Clarke winced as she felt her hairdo jostle slightly out of place. Being late to set was not how she usually did things, and definitely not how she wanted today to go. 

Apparently it wasn’t how Bellamy wanted his day to go either, because he shot her an annoyed look as she ran up to take her spot outside the constructed sitting room.

“Sorry, sorry!” she blurted. She felt her neck flush with heat when everyone stared at her.

Bellamy merely pursed his lips. Kane was the one who rushed forward and got her into place, rattling off where they wanted to get started. Clarke barely had time to swallow down her nervousness before they launched into practicing the first proposal scene. 

Well, they were _supposed_  to be practicing. It was just a run through, to get the jitters and stuttering out before they wasted any time and energy actually filming. That wasn’t how Bellamy was doing it though. First time out of the gate, and he was going at a full gallop. His words dripped with indignation and snapped with righteousness. She struggled to keep up until Kane stopped them with a shout.

“Slow down, guys! I don’t want you to burn out before we shoot.”

Bellamy leaned back in his seat and stared at his shoes as they reset to start again. Clarke tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look at her again until they began the scene. Then, she really wished he wouldn’t look at her at all, not with the way his eyes flashed with disdain and his mouth curled in a hard smile didn’t feel like entirely like just an act. 

Their second and third tries were as bad as their first. On the fourth and fifth try–after increasingly frustrated (and ignored) attempts at direction from Kane–Clarke stopped holding back. Her spine was straighter, prouder as she deigned to offer her hand for him. Her tongue felt thick as she rattled off her lines about his family and her concessions, and her pulse pounded in her temples as Bellamy’s voice rose as he countered her angrily. 

They went on like that, until she found herself about to yell one of her lines, and then she nearly choked on the words. Turning abruptly to Kane, she called out, “I need a break.”

Not waiting to hear his answer, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Her hands shook as she curled them into fists by her sides. She paid no attention to anyone else in the hallways, hoping they ignored her and her flaming cheeks just the same. Feeling a hot, angry prickling at the corners of her eyes, Clarke headed for the parking lot. 

Slamming through the double doors, she took a breath of cool air. She only got into a few more–which didn’t do much to calm her–before she heard the doors open behind her.

“We can’t be on your schedule all day.”

Clarke froze, then turned slowly. Bellamy was glaring at her, jawing working and arms crossed. This was who she remembered, _how_  she remembered him last. Angry, at her, for something that was her fault but also something she couldn’t control because it was a little bit his fault too. 

Nothing had been simple with them, ever. They had been that couple, the one who fought as much and as hard as they loved. A desperate laugh threatened to escape as she stood staring at him dressed in a cravat and waistcoat and glaring at her because no wonder they hadn’t had trouble working together until now. Awkward silences and unsaid feelings weren’t something they had every done. Loud and open and honest and vulnerable–everything this proposal scene was– _that_ was them. So of course this scene, this moment would be when their history broke through to the surface. 

Suddenly feeling so tired of pretending she was okay, Clarke let the frustration bubbling inside her roll into a full boil. She tipped her chin up with a furiously straight spine, stared him head on, and opened her mouth to confront him.

* * *

Rubbing her raw, very red eyes, Clarke pushed out of the bathroom in her trailer. As she sniffled, she finally registered the loud, insistent pounding on her main door. She tensed, knowing exactly who it was.

Anger and reluctance twisted her gut in knots. She shouldn’t have yelled at him. She shouldn’t have even run off set. She should’ve talked to Bellamy before filming even started. They didn’t have to be at this place, at each other’s throats.

So, because she didn’t want to waste another _should have_ , Clarke shuffled towards the door and opened it.

Bellamy followed her in without a word. He leaned against her small kitchen counter as she hitched a leg up to sit on the drop-down table. She took in a breathe to start speaking at the same time as he began to say something. She paused, and then so did she. Bellamy dropped his head and sighed, but when he looked at her again, one corner of his mouth was lifted in wry amusement.

“Never thought I’d see us both speechless,” he quipped.

Clarke tried to smile, but her stomach was so uneasy it felt like a grimace. With effort, she eased her expression. Her pulse stuttered when she watched Bellamy do the same.

“Can we do this?” she asked quietly. 

“Do we have a choice?” 

She tried not to wince. “I suppose not.”

“I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. His jaw clenched, and she waited for another round of criticism or–worse–indifferent reasoning, but instead he slumped as if in defeat. Quietly, he said, “I was so angry. So angry when you left.”

Clarke leaned forward, but he cut off her reply with a raised hand. “I _was_  angry, Clarke. But I don’t–I don’t want to feel that way anymore. And not because we’re working together, or might in the future, I just–”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke offered. She stood, but hesitated stepping closer to him. “I’m sorry that I left. It was what I needed, but it was a mistake and I wish, I wish–”

For once words failed her. Instead, she threw caution to the wind and reached for Bellamy. She pulled him into a tight hug and whispered, “I’m just so sorry.”

He didn’t respond, but from the way he held her close and buried his face in the crook of his neck, she knew. She knew they were starting new, fresh, on the heels of forgiveness. Clarke relaxed into him, enjoying the closeness even in all its bittersweetness, because she realized that this may be all she gets of him from now on. 

She was the one who left after all; she didn’t dare reach for more when it came to him.

* * *

It wasn’t until a year later, on the red carpet, when Bellamy pulled her in close for a photo op, that she realized she had made another mistake. Her first had been running away; her second had been not running after him when their paths crossed again. So, once they were inside and away from the cameras, she laced her fingers with his and tugged him aside. Clarke kissed him, afraid and unsure but knowing it was at least worth it to try.

And when he kissed her back, smiling, she knew she finally had gotten it just right.


End file.
